In Trouble
by JeSuisUnePomme
Summary: DenNor. They find each other in a bar and go home together. Sindre muses about how much trouble he's getting himself into, breaking all the rules he's set up for himself. It was supposed to be a single night of passion, but Matthias has the troublesome habit of eliciting feelings from him without even trying.


**AN:** Here's a silly thing I found in my WIPs and I forgot to share it. A story about sex, without the sex being in the story.

* * *

Sindre should have known he was in for a world of trouble when the ass he was admiring turned around and he recognized the face that went along with it.

"Holy shit, _Sindre_? Sindre Hansen?" Sindre couldn't bring himself to raise his voice above the din of club music and only tilted his head in response to the familiar face. Those wide eyes bluer than the sky, twinkling with equal parts humour and mischief, and that face-splitting grin were hard to forget; his cheeks were tinted pink by alcohol. "Do you remember me?" He sidled up too close to be considered merely past acquaintances. "Matthias Andersen," he continued, "we went to the same high school - man, that was years ago. What on earth are you doing in a place like this?"

"Same as you, I presume." Sindre had no shame having a stiff drink in a gay bar, waiting to meet someone to pick up or be picked up. Matthias laughed, his cheeks darkening and he looked away for a minute, surveying their surroundings until his blush subsided.

"I had no idea you swung this way," Matthias scratched the back of his head and peeked at Sindre almost shyly, but the dopey half-smile gave him away.

Sindre shrugged. He didn't really have a preference one way or another, only desires he wanted fulfilled. He didn't care where he ended up or with whom so long as both parties left satisfied.

"Do you have anyone in mind, then?" Matthias turned around and made a show of leaning against the bar and facing into the club. He scanned the room then peeked back at Sindre from the corner of his eye; Sindre scoffed.

"You don't have to put on airs," he sighed, tipping his head back and finishing his drink. "If you are trying to work up to asking me home, it'd be best to just cut to the chase."

"Oh, well now you've taken all the fun out of it!" Matthias feigned wounded and inclined his head. "But, if you want to play it that way, then fine. When you don't find anyone better and you're ready to leave, I'll be over there," he motioned to a table at the far end of the room where, Sindre presumed, his friends were doing a round of shots and waving him over to join in. He saluted and sauntered away.

Sindre should have been prepared for a world of trouble when, as he watched Matthias walk away, he realized he'd not be going home with anyone else. Of course, he pretended to keep his options open as he flirted with various passers-by. One dark haired gentleman in particular took a shine to Sindre and bought him a few drinks; he had a handsome face and smelled like menthol and poorly disguised cigarettes. Had Matthias not been watching Sindre from over the rim of his own glass on the other side of the room, Mr. Dark Hair may have been the one to relieve Sindre of his pants later.

Sindre didn't care to stay at the bar too late, not when the looks Matthias was shooting his way were getting harder and harder to ignore as the night wore on. He would not be made to look desperate, of course, so he made a show of slowly standing, stretching, and ordering one last drink before he lazily made his way to the table where Matthias sat. The laughter and chatter at the table died as he approached, all of Matthias' friends smiling knowingly.

"Have you paid any attention to your companions at all this evening?" Sindre drawled, lips pressed against the coolness of his glass, taking a slow sip, "every time I glance over you seem to be staring at me."

"The moment we exchanged pleasantries you became the focus of my evening." Matthias said it so easily, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head, very openly eyeing Sindre from foot to forehead.

"That's terribly rude." Sindre finished his drink and carefully placed the glass on the table; he let his hand linger there for a moment, watching Matthias through the hair that had fallen into his eyes. He didn't want to admit that his heart was thundering in his chest.

"They'll forgive me," Matthias grinned. One of his friends offered a hearty agreement, but Sindre didn't bother turning his head to find out which had said it. "Are you ready to go?"

"I suppose I could be convinced." Matthias' eyes darkened to something a lot more dangerous and devilishly delicious; had Sindre been a lesser man, he could also have been convinced to skip leaving the bar entirely and letting Matthias bend him over the sinks in the bathroom. Happily, he was not a lesser man, and instead he clucked his tongue and spun on his heel, walking for the door. He swayed his hips in that way he knew drew all attention to his ass, confident Matthias would be following right behind him.

He was.

.

Sindre should have known he was heading straight for a world of trouble when they arrived at the small apartment and he began to unbutton his shirt, but Matthias reached out to still his hand.

"Woah, woah, woah! What are you doing?"

"Undressing," he deadpanned. Their arrangement was very clear prior to even getting into a cab together. It was, he thought, customary to remove one's clothing before partaking in coitus.

Matthias stepped close enough for Sindre to feel his body heat. He slowly re-buttoned what Sindre had undone and spoke low, slow, and deliberate.

"First of all," his voice sparked a shiver up and down Sindre's spine, "we don't have to do anything. Not if you don't want to. Secondly, if you do want to do anything, undressing is half the fun."

Sindre blinked.

He usually approached sex with nothing more than surgical precision. He never spent more time than absolutely necessary when partaking in pleasure of the flesh and rarely felt the desire for anything even remotely romantic. He didn't have time in his life for romance - he made sure of it. If he told himself enough times he didn't need it, then he believed it. Romance was a distraction.

"Has no one ever made sure you enjoy yourself?" Matthias asked, fiddling with the collar or Sindre's shirt, leaning in so his breath would ghost across the skin of his neck.

"Of course I _enjoy_ myself. That's the point."

"You know what I mean."

Sindre shivered again as Matthias pressed a lingering kiss just below his ear.

He should have known better than to willingly be tugged along into a world of trouble by slow and deliberate kisses and a lazy shuffle towards, he assumed, the bedroom door. He didn't have time for deep kisses and a hand trailing up his back and eventually tangling in his hair. He should have known that every single one of the rules he carefully set up in his life would be threatened to be toppled by gentle hands that pressed him into the bed, still clothed, and his face was peppered with soft kisses, murmurs of affection and praise breathed into his ear. He was in for a world of trouble.

He realized it too late, of course.

He didn't bother counting how many times he was brought to completion; after the second time he was breaking records for the same partner in a single night. When he finally fell back into the pillows and Matthias collapsed next to him, both slick with sweat and breathing heavy, the room was grey with predawn light. When a hand reached and snaked around his waist, pulling him in to nestle up against the body beside him, he did not have the energy, nor the will, to brush the arm away. He found the warmth next to him was comforting as the sweat dried on his skin and the cool air made him shiver.

He fell asleep as a blanket was drawn up over his shoulders.

He dreamed of a house of cards collapsing.

Sindre was awakened in the morning by the sound of water running. He willed his eyes to remained closed and drifted in and out of sleep until he heard the creak of a closet door; he opened his eyes and watched Matthias rummage in his closet for clothes; he continued to watch, blinking sleepily as Matthias turned to face him and smiled. Matthias made his way to the side of the bed and knelt beside it, reaching out a hand and placing it against Sindre's cheek.

"Hey," he leaned forward and kissed Sindre, "did you have a good night?"

Sindre knew he was in for a world of trouble when the honest "yes" slipped past his lips before he could calculate a better response, one that would give him an escape route.

A proper escape plan would have been handy when he was offered the shower next, which Sindre accepted. Inside the bathroom he found his clothing from the previous night neatly folded next to a spare pair of pajama bottoms and a large, red t-shirt that Matthias had said he was free to use - if he so desired. Sindre stared at the offending options clothing for a long time, realizing his decision would impact how exactly _this_ , whatever this was, would end. He thought about this as he showered, the water too hot, burning his skin, and just the way he liked it. If he chose his own attire he could return home, no questions asked, and he'd only revisit the events of the previous night when he was alone in his own darkened room. If he were to choose Matthias' offer to borrow a change of clothes he would be agreeing to stay longer. He never stayed longer.

He was still weighing the pros and cons, inwardly debating, as he shut off the water, toweled himself dry, and dressed. He was quite surprised to see his reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror wearing the red t-shirt and baggy, plaid bottoms.

He had half a mind to redress himself when there was a knock at the door.

"If you're staying for breakfast," Matthias called, "pancakes will be ready in a minute and the coffee is already hot."

He was in so much, deep trouble he could barely fathom how he was going to get himself out of it. He wrenched open the door, revealing Matthias' stupidly bright grin, which seemed to double in size as he looked Sindre over. He needed to formulate an escape plan.

This, he decided, could wait until after breakfast.

But, the trouble continued as soon as he sat himself down at the small kitchen table. Breakfast was pleasant, and delicious, which lead to a discussion about what to do with their day - should Sindre decide to remain. Breakfast ended with soft kisses in the kitchen while dishes were cleaned up, which eventually had them stumbling over each other to the couch in the adjoining living room, shirts being removed sloppily, uncaring where in the small apartment they ended up. After some time, the TV was turned on and some asinine drama played an endless stream of episodes that Sindre only half paid attention to between searing kisses with exploring hands and quiet moments that could only be described as _cuddling_. He rest his head on Matthias' chest while Matthias' played absently with his hair. Time continued to tick by and the day melted into night which resulted with Sindre being led back to the bedroom where he experienced a repeat performance which was, shockingly, even better than the previous after a day of slow buildup.

Eventually, he was surprised when he heard the words, "I gotta work in the morning," spill sadly from Matthias' mouth. Sindre blinked. The entire weekend had somehow passed while he was unaware, and he had spent the majority of it naked and none of it at his own home.

"Oh," was the only thing Sindre could think to say, his brain was shorting-out after realizing the phrase, ' _time flies when you're having fun_ ' applied to him in this very moment. That had never occurred to him before.

Matthias was already done discussing the matter and flipped Sindre onto his stomach so he could trace sinful designs with his his coquettish tongue down Sindre's spine. Sindre practically purred.

He had forgotten about formulating an escape plan entirely. It was hard to focus on this as Matthias' hands slid up his sides, fingers splaying across his warming skin in a way that was familiar, like they had already memorized every curve and contour of Sindre's body. Perhaps they had, he considered, arching into the touch and allowing a small mewl of delight to slide out from the back of his throat. The room filled with additional sounds of Sindre's approval. Any other noise came from the slide of limbs on bed sheets, heavy breathing, and Matthias worshiping Sindre's skin with soft whispers between trailing kisses.

He didn't want the weekend to end.

This realization would have, under normal circumstances, caused Sindre to freeze in terror before fleeing from the situation. At the present, however, he was too busy melting into a puddle of intoxicating pleasure to care much beyond the thought itself. Sindre pushed himself up from the bed and twist around so he was on his back. He grabbed Matthias' by the hair and pulled his face up so he could kiss him on the mouth, slow, deep, and longing. He spread his legs, giving Matthias room to settle between his knees, and hooked his ankles behind Matthias' back when he did so.

Sindre didn't want the weekend to end, he didn't want to leave and return to his empty, cold home and, most importantly, he found he didn't care about how much trouble he was in.

 **TBC?**


End file.
